


never been away so long

by Kutaisi



Series: SubObi Week 2020/21 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Watch (Star Wars), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Identity Issues, M/M, Manipulation, Pre Vizsla Being an Asshole, Semi-Public Sex, Senior Padawan Obi-Wan, SubObi Week, Undercover Missions, Unhealthy Relationships, armour kink, omg that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kutaisi/pseuds/Kutaisi
Summary: Obi-Wan is undercover with Death Watch and as usual, he ends up at the mercy of Pre's whims. And as usual, he likes it.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Pre Vizsla
Series: SubObi Week 2020/21 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083272
Comments: 6
Kudos: 115
Collections: SubObi Weeks





	never been away so long

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 - Uniform/Armour Kink
> 
> Everything here is consensual, though of course Obi-Wan is undercover so there are identity issues. And Pre is gross and coercive, though he doesn't actually need to be with Obi-Wan, who is into it despite himself. Pre is just the worst, though.
> 
> Obi-Wan is early to mid 20s in this. 
> 
> Title from "Meet Me in the Woods" by Lord Huron

The situation went from calm to the edge of disaster in just a few seconds, which if Obi-Wan was being honest, was not exactly an unusual occurrence. He berated himself for letting his guard down because, after all, this was Kyr’tsad. They were terrorists and criminals and he’d been undercover with them long enough to know things could take a turn at any moment. But the last couple days had been good. It was uncomfortable to admit to himself, but it was true. There hadn’t been much fighting, save for a encounter with an ill-equipped pirate crew, plus they’d recently replenished their supplies so no one was going hungry and, most importantly, Pre Viszla had been in a relatively stable mood, bolstered by recent successes, small as they were.

So Obi-Wan had felt comfortable relaxing around the fire with Pre and most of his inner circle, sipping _ne’tra gal_ and putting up with a bit of attention from Pre, though the man mostly seemed content to drink and brag about past victories to a captive audience.

The stories had begun to become repetitive and Obi-Wan, who had been up since early morning, had started to lose focus and drift off when Arlen Detta, a long-time member of Kyr’tsad who'd been close with Pre's father Tor, said _something_. Obi-Wan didn’t hear what it was exactly, but he didn’t need the Force to feel the instant change in the mood that preceded Vizsla jumping to his feet with a snarl and, after a brief scuffle, bringing a vibroblade to the commando’s neck.

Obi-Wan didn’t care for Detta, who was one of the few influential Death Watch members who still seemed to resent him rather than appreciate the steadying effect he had on their leader, but the last few months had meant witnessing far too much unnecessary violence, and he’d do what he could to prevent it.

“Pre,” he said as he stood up. None of the others gathered around the fire had made any attempt to get involved, though he noticed that Bo-Katan had her hand on her blaster.

“Stay out of this, Ben.” Vizsla barely glanced his way, but Obi-Wan stepped closer anyway.

“I’m not trying to interfere, Alor. I was just hoping…” Obi-Wan willed himself to ignore the other people who he knew were watching intently. “I was hoping that you’d save your energy for something more enjoyable.” He kept his voice as low as he could, but there was at least one sharp intake of breath and several snickers.

It was worth it, though, when Vizsla deactivated the knife and pushed Detta away, no longer paying attention to the man as he stumbled backwards into the darkness of the camp. Instead, it was Obi-Wan he was focused on and he looped one arm around the younger man and pulled him close, only pausing to glance over his shoulder at his still-sitting lieutenants. “Fuck off,” he said before leaning in and mouthing at Obi-Wan’s jaw. “All of you.”

“We could go to your tent.” Obi-Wan tried, though he knew it was probably futile. Pre wanted to do this near his followers, if not in their immediate vicinity. After all, his attempt to fight someone who he'd perceived as disrespecting him had been thwarted, so he’d have to assert his dominance some other way. Knowing that he planned to do that using ‘Ben’ bothered Obi-Wan less than the fact that the knowledge caused a warm electric feeling of need inside of him.

“Last night you complained it was too cold.” Pre sat down on one of the logs they’d been using for an improvised bench and pulled Obi-Wan down with him. Everyone else had scattered, either to their bedrolls or one of the other fires. “Here it’s nice and warm,” he said as he settled Obi-Wan in his lap. It was warm and somehow it _was_ comfortable, though Obi-Wan refused to dwell on that. Or how Pre’s _beskar_ thigh plates pressed against Obi-Wan’s ass through the thin fabric of his undersuit.

Obi-Wan had already removed his own durasteel armour after dinner. All that remained was a single vambrace, which Pre unclasped and tossed aside.

“Pre…” He began as Vizsla slipped on one of his gloves and deftly undid the opening at his lover’s crotch.

“Quiet, Ben’ika. Lean back, I know you want this.”

Obi-Wan obeyed because what else was there to do. And he did want it. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to have Vizsla’s bare hand on him as he leaned back against the man’s cuirass.

“You’re mine and someday soon I’ll be able to show the whole galaxy that,” Pre said, whispering into Obi-Wan’s ear. “When we take back Manda’yaim, the first thing I’ll do is bend you over that throne. I won’t care who sees.”

It was all Obi-Wan could do not to moan at that suggestion, even as it filled him with horror. _You won’t win. I’ll do everything in my power to stop you from hurting more people._ Yet the mental image wouldn’t leave him. Obi-Wan naked, or close to it, writhing beneath Pre, who’d only removed his codpiece, in front of an audience of cheering Kyr’stad fighters and horrified New Mandalorian prisoners.

The pace of Pre’s hand was maddeningly slow and Obi-Wan was no longer even trying to suppress the soft sounds he was making. “I know you like the way my _beskar’gam_ marks up your skin,” Pre continued, his voice all low menace that had no right to be as attractive as it was. “You even like it when people see them, don’t you? You should have some nice ones to show off tomorrow in the showers.”

“Alor, please,” Obi-Wan pleaded, and he wasn’t sure if he was asking for a stop to Vizsla’s words or for an escalation of his actions. Instead of an answer, two of the fingers from Pre’s still gloved hand found their way into Obi-Wan’s mouth and he moaned around them.

Then suddenly both hands were removed, leaving Obi-Wan feeling exposed and bereft.

“Get up,” Pre ordered, giving the younger man a light shove. Obi-Wan hastened to obey, though he was achingly hard, something that was obvious even after fixing his _kute_. “I think you want to continue this as much as I do,” Pre said as Obi-Wan stood upright on wobbly legs.

Obi-Wan hated that he was right.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to leave my armour on.” Pre’s leering voice echoed around them as he pulled Obi-Wan toward the tents.

It was just barely dawn as Obi-Wan quietly made his way to the makeshift mess tent to get Pre’s morning caf. The Death Watch leader had still been snoring in bed when Obi-Wan had snuck out in the hopes of an early shower with no witnesses. He’d succeeded and now all he had to do was get back before Pre woke up alone and annoyed.

He winced a little as he walked because Pre’s enthusiasm the night before had meant he’d rushed through prep. Still, Obi-Wan couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed it, just as both of them had known he would. Couldn't deny that he’d gasped out for more before the of two of them finally collapsed in exhaustion.

“Ben, wait.”

Obi-Wan turned warily at the sound of Detta’s voice. “What do you want?” In the early morning light, the man simply looked old and tired, though he was probably still in early middle-age. That would be the result of a hard-lived life on the margins of the galaxy. Despite himself and despite knowing just what that life had entailed, Obi-Wan couldn’t help that there was the slightest bit of sympathy mixed in with his annoyance.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Detta sounded guilty and regretful rather than defensive and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks flush, the searing remark on his tongue melting away.

Instead, he just shook his head and avoided eye contact. “I didn’t do anything.”

There was a sigh that clearly communicated what Detta thought of that banthashite. “Here, take this.”

Obi-Wan glanced down at the small packet that was thrust at him. “What…?”

“It’s tea. Picked it up on our last supply raid. I’ve noticed you don’t drink a lot of caf and barely manage to choke down _shig_ ,” Detta said as Obi-Wan looked at him with poorly disguised horror. Had he really been so obvious? The older man just shrugged. “You’re from Sundari,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Uh, _vor’e_ ,” Obi-Wan finally managed, but Detta had already turned and was walking away from him.

Obi-Wan tucked the tea away and continued on to the mess tent. This mission would be over soon. It would all be over soon.

**Author's Note:**

> ne'tra gal- black ale  
> Kyr'tsad- Death Watch  
> alor- leader  
> beskar'gam- Mandalorian armour  
> kute- bodysuit worn under armour  
> Manda'yaim- the planet of Mandalore  
> vor'e- thanks  
> shig- a beverage that's an infusion of whatever's available, but usually a mildly stimulant herb with a citrus flavor called behot


End file.
